


you can't always get what you want

by coffeeandcheesecake



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), First Kiss, Friend Reunions, Getting Together, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcheesecake/pseuds/coffeeandcheesecake
Summary: The worst phone call of Mike’s life comes on a Friday, and it isn’t even to his phone.Based on the movie The Big Chill. A phone call from Patty Uris brings all of the Losers to Atlanta, where drama ensues. Richie is ignoring Eddie, Eddie brings an unexpected guest, Stan processes his loneliness, and Mike sees it all, holding his love for Bill close and quiet. Everything comes to the surface.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	you can't always get what you want

**Author's Note:**

> I'm obsessed with the movie The Big Chill and it's probably one of the reasons I'm so into the Losers. Make sure to read the tags as this fic deals with some heavy stuff at a couple points. Mostly it is just silly and a way for me to write people loving each other very deeply.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my betas Evan (on twitter @TachyonEvan) and Anna (on AO3 at AnnaMcb24) who provided much needed perspective and also forced me to stop being so lazy and include some exposition.

The worst phone call of Mike’s life comes on a Friday, and it isn’t even to his phone. He’s at Bill’s, which isn’t unusual for him these days. Lately, he’s been at Bill’s home more than his own, and this particular visit has stretched from two days to two weeks to closing in on two months, and he doesn’t have any desire to leave. His own apartment is quiet and neat, while Bill’s house, being also habited by his eight year old daughter Maggie, is constantly noisy and messy, and Mike loves it. He’s also had to accept the cruel and undeniable fact that he loves Bill, more than he should, but that’s just another messy pile, another piece of clutter that Bill won’t notice as long as it’s not underfoot, and that suits Mike fine. 

He and Bill are ostensibly “researching” for Bill’s next book; Mike has been officially hired by the publishing company as a consultant, but it’s all just an excuse for him and Bill to sit at their laptops and send each other YouTube videos. Usually they can be drawn away easily by Maggie and her games, and this particular morning they’ve both been engaged as fighter jet pilots and are zooming around the study, pelting each other with bits of rolled up paper while Maggie screams narration. Bill swoops out, yelling “retreat, retreat!”, Maggie chasing after, just as his phone starts to ring, and Mike, seeing “Patty Uris” on the caller ID, picks it up without a thought.

“Hey, Patty, it’s Mike,” he says into the phone, laughter still bubbling in his voice.

“Mike,” Patty says, and something in that one word sends Mike’s heart thudding into his feet.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but he already knows there’s only one reason Patty would call him and say his name that way. “Is it--?”

She lets out one harsh, gasping sob. Mike feels like his legs are about to give out and he stumbles into a chair. 

“Patty, tell me,” he demands, his throat getting tight. “Is he--?”

“He’s alive,” she chokes out. Mike’s lungs release a fraction. “But he tried… Mike. He tried to.”

For a moment, they both just breathe, gulping harshly for air as if they’re both drowning.

“Mike,” Patty says again, and even though he hasn’t known her as long as Bill, or Stan, or any of the rest of them, he hears the unspoken question, the request she can’t say aloud.

“We’ll be on the next flight out,” he says, and hears her exhale shakily with relief. “And I’ll call the others.” 

“Thank you,” she says, and he can hear years in it. “Don’t worry about a hotel, you can all stay here at the house.”

“We’ll see you soon,” he promises. “Give him our love. We’ll be there soon.”

They whisper goodbyes and hang up, and it’s only then that Mike lets himself cry, clutching Bill’s phone to his chest.

Bill and Maggie come wheeling back into the study, still laughing, but their arms and smiles drop when they see him. 

“Uncle Mike, what’s wrong?” Maggie asks, climbing into his lap and putting her little arms around his neck before he can even answer. He hugs her, and looks at Bill over her shoulder, who is staring at him like he knows, like he can read it on Mike’s face.

“I think you’re going to need to call Audra,” Mike says.

\--

Four hours later, Maggie has been dropped off at her mom’s house, bags have been hastily packed, and Bill has spent several tense minutes hunched over his laptop, coordinating flights, while Mike calls the others. Richie is meeting them at LAX, Ben and Bev are flying in from Chicago, and Eddie is coming down from New York, although he’s being oddly cagey about it and keeps insisting he’ll meet them at the house.

“Just let us know when you’ve landed,” Mike says, and Eddie mutters something before hanging up. Mike tries to chalk it up to Eddie not being the best about death and illness, but he has a bad feeling something else is in store.

At the airport, when Richie sees them, he bursts into tears.

“Rich,” Bill says gently, and gathers him in his arms. Mike puts his arms around them both, and they all cry together, three grown men at LAX, while some dude with a camera tries to pretend he isn’t absolutely filming Trashmouth Tozier’s breakdown for TMZ.

“Ugh,” Richie says, pulling away and wiping snot on his sleeve. “I don’t even know why I’m so weepy. He’s okay. He’s all right. Right? Patty says he’s okay?”

“He’s all right,” Mike says, keeping a protective arm around Richie’s shoulder. He wants to put his arm around Bill too, wants to keep it there, but he pushes down that urge. “But it’s still okay to cry. I cried earlier, when I got off the phone with Patty.”

“I just keep thinking about him,” Richie says. “What he could have been thinking…” This sets off a fresh wave of tears, and Bill and Mike do their best to shield him from the paparazzo in the corner until their flight boards.

Richie immediately falls asleep, as he has always done during any form of travel, and Bill curls up with one of he and Mike’s research books. Mike also brought along work he could do, but the words keep blurring together and he can’t focus, so instead he just watches Bill read over the top of his laptop.

Bill’s eyebrows scrunch together as he highlights directly onto the book, which Mike has begged him several times not to do. He looks exhausted, as though he hasn’t slept for days, though Mike is sure he probably looks the same way. He wants to tug the book out of Bill’s hands, smooth his brow, cover him in the cheap airport blanket, and let him sleep. He wants to cup Bill’s cheek and have Bill lean into his hand. He wants so many things.

Their flight touches down right on time, and they find Bev and Ben easily at the car rental place, Bev’s hair like a shock of wildfire against all the concrete.

“Where’s Eddie?” Ben asks, doing a headcount. Mike notices Richie pretending not to care about the answer.

“Meeting us at the house,” he says. 

Ben frowns. “Why?” he asks. Richie is carefully examining his nails.

Mike shrugs. Ben opens his mouth like he’s going to ask another question, but Richie finally interjects.

“He’s probably worried he won’t fit in the car with all your muscles, Haystack,” he quips, squeezing Ben, who blushes and yanks his arm away from Richie.

Bev pulls Ben to her protectively, sticking her tongue out at Richie, but as Richie turns to shove his luggage into the trunk, she meets Mike’s eyes and quirks an eyebrow.

He shrugs at her. He can tell she’s asking if he knows anything about why Richie and Eddie have stopped talking in the group chat. They’ve always sniped at each other, Richie making wisecracks about Eddie’s mom, Eddie _beep-beep_ -ing him and telling him to get better material. They’ve always responded to each other’s news with excitement and emojis, and joined in with sympathy when one of them had a bad day. But in the last year, Mike has noticed that Eddie is suspiciously silent when Richie tells them what celebrity he spotted that day at the coffee shop, and Richie never responds when Eddie complains about work, even though the setup to make fun of his job is usually right there. He hadn’t been sure if the other Losers had noticed yet, but if Bev is eyebrow-asking, she’s probably talked to Ben about it. Stan might know, since Richie tells him everything, and Bill might know, because Eddie tells _him_ everything.

 _Well_ , Mike thinks, _this weekend is going to be interesting._

\--

Patty is still at the hospital when they all troop up to the house, but she’d texted Mike that they could let themselves in with the hide-a-key. She’d also left them a very long letter of room assignments and meal prep, adding at the end that she’d be back from the hospital with Stan at 6:00pm and then they could all eat dinner.

Bill looks in the fridge, where the ingredients for meals for the next few days have been organized and labeled. “That woman is a superhero,” he says, shaking his head.

Richie is bent over the room assignments, and Mike looks over just to see him do a double take and mutter, “What the _fuck?”_

“What?” Mike asks.

Richie’s head snaps up. “Nothing,” he says, but there’s something nasty in the twist of his mouth. “I’m in the basement like usual, I’ll take my shit down there now.”

He grabs his duffel and bangs out of the kitchen. Mike, Bill, Bev, and Ben eye each other before scrambling for the paper. Bev gets to it first.

“Okay, Richie in the basement,” she says, reading from the labeled floor plan. Patty really is a superhero. “Bill and Mike, you’re on the pullout in the study. Me and Ben are in the guest room. And Eddie is--” She stops. “Wait, who the fuck is Myra?”

“Who?” Bill demands, yanking the paper from her and squinting at it.

“It says Eddie and Myra are in the craft room,” she says. “Is Eddie... _bringing someone_?”

Mike looks towards the door Richie had stormed out of. “No wonder he’s upset.”

“Could this be why they’ve stopped talking in the group chat?” Ben asks.

“It isn’t just the group chat,” Bill says. “Eddie says they haven’t talked in months. Like, since last Thanksgiving.”

“This can’t be why,” Bev says. “We’d know if Eddie had been dating someone since last Thanksgiving.”

“If Eddie is bringing someone to Stan’s recovery weekend,” Mike interrupts solemnly, “they must have been dating at least a little while.”

They all stand in silence for a moment, absorbing this information.

“He didn’t say anything to you?” Bill asks Mike directly.

“No, but he was being weird,” Mike says. “He must have called Patty right after me and asked if he could bring her.”

“Richie is gonna flip,” Ben says quietly.

“He’s already flipping,” Bill sighs. “At least he saw now when it was just us. Imagine if he hadn’t known until Eddie walked through the door with some woman.”

“This is so stupid,” Bev groans. “They should just be together. Why aren’t they together? It’s literally been twenty-five years of watching them pine over each other.”

“Careful,” Ben says to her. “It took _us_ a pretty long time and you had to get married to someone else first.”

Bev’s face gets moony and she leans into Ben, tilting up her mouth for a kiss. He wraps an arm around her and obliges her, and Mike catches Bill glancing over at him. When their eyes meet, Bill looks away and blushes. Mike blinks. _What was that?_

“We should all go drop off our stuff,” Ben says, rubbing Bev’s shoulder. “And then we can start on dinner.”

They all know their way around the house; Patty and Stan have hosted Thanksgiving, Passover, and Christmas a few times since the Losers came up with a holiday rotation, as well as other random get-togethers, and they’re pretty much all always in the same rooms. Mike feels a particular fondness for the study, which he and Bill have shared ever since he and Audra divorced five years ago. He used to share with Ben, who was quiet and sad during the years Bev brought Tom to holidays. Mike thinks every arrangement works better now-- him and Bill in the study with the books, Ben and Bev in the guest room, and Eddie and Richie in the basement, so they can stay up until 4:00am bickering and laughing and not wake anybody else up.

Mike sighs. This trip is going to be a little different, he supposes, and not just because of the reason they’re all there.

Bill and Mike drop their bags off in the study, where fresh sheets and pillows have already been laid out on the pull-out couch. Bill has his phone out and is texting-- probably letting Audra and Maggie know about their safe arrival.

“Say hi for me,” Mike says.

Bill looks at him and smiles, and there’s something in that look that Mike can’t decipher. It’s fond but thoughtful, like Bill is realizing something very slowly. “I will,” he says.

The next few hours are busy with cooking and catching up. Patty left a brisket in the fridge to defrost and Ben takes charge of getting it into the oven. Bev takes care of the broccoli and cauliflower, which leaves Mike and Bill with the potatoes. Richie, as usual, does not help with the cooking, but instead mixes drinks and regales them with tidbits from his new routine.

“Oof,” Bill chuckles after a particularly raunchy one. “That’s real bad, Rich.”

“Then you better be happy you’re getting it for free, Big Bill,” Richie says happily, his sour mood in the basement with his belongings. 

They’re just laying out the silverware when they hear the key in the door. They all freeze in their spots as Patty comes through the door, carrying a small duffel bag, Stan trailing after her. He looks at all of them and sighs

“All right, come on,” he says, “but be gentle, I’m very weak from the painkillers.”

Richie practically vaults over the kitchen island to get to him, the others following suit, and Stan is immediately buried underneath a tangle of arms and faces as they all try to get to him, to hold him, to feel his realness, his aliveness.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Richie says in a low voice, choked again with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Stan says, and Mike is surprised to hear that he’s crying too. Stan almost _never_ cries; the last time Mike can remember was when they were kids.

“Don’t apologize,” Bill says. “ _We’re_ sorry. We should have known, or suspected--”

“No, don’t do that,” Stan says, pulling away and wiping his eyes with the top of his wrist and wincing as he does so. “Don’t beat yourselves up for not knowing. It came on so quick this time, nobody could have caught it. I’m just glad I--” His mouth screws up like he’s going to start crying again, and that sets them all off, hugging and crying. Patty joins them this time, fitting perfectly as if a space had been left purposely for her, and they all hold each other until the oven timer beeps.

“Can I just say something before we start?” Stan says as they’re all tucking in. “I just want to let you guys know how much it means to me that you’re here, and… I know it’s going to be hard not to be a little maudlin, but let’s also try to have fun, okay? I want to have fun. I want to be with you guys, really, not have you watch me like I’m some sad museum exhibit. _Richie_ ,” he says pointedly.

“I’m not!” Richie protests. “I’m watching you like you’re a very funny museum exhibit, Stanley. Like I always do.”

“Cheers to that,” Bill says, and they all clink glasses.

They’re all almost done eating when they hear the door open and Eddie’s voice call, “We’re here!”

“Come on in!” Patty says, standing up from her chair. 

Eddie appears in the doorway, his bag clutched in his left hand. In his right is the hand of a blonde woman, wearing a conservative blouse and a very pinched, uncomfortable expression.

“Hey everyone,” Eddie says. “This is Myra.” He lifts their joined hands a little awkwardly. “My fianceé.”

Mike practically feels the silence settle over the room like a fog. They’re all just staring at Eddie and Myra’s joined hands, the ring visible on her finger. 

Richie stands up suddenly, his chair clattering and almost falling over.

“My agent just called,” he says, lifting up his phone. “I need to go take it. Um. Congratulations.”

He strides towards the door, where he’ll have to pass Eddie to get to the hallway, and for a moment it looks like Eddie isn’t going to let him leave, but eventually he steps aside and lets Richie vanish.

“Yeah, congratulations,” Bev says, her voice falsely buoyant. “Wow, Eddie, that’s huge news.”

“It’s great,” Ben echoes her.

Mike looks at Bill. They’re all best friends, but Eddie is closer to Bill than anyone, especially now that he and Richie apparently aren’t speaking. Mike expects Bill to say something, but he’s just watching Eddie with narrowed eyes. 

“Let me take your bags,” Patty says. “I’ll go stick them in my sewing room, that’s where I have you both sleeping.”

“Eddie and I can’t share a room,” Myra says, speaking for the first time. Her voice is higher than Mike expects it to be. “We’re not married yet.”

Eddie closes his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to see the reactions of the rest of the Losers. He’s right to, Mike thinks. Stan, Ben, and Bill are having the world’s loudest silent conversation. Bev has her hand over her mouth in a way that looks casual, but Mike knows she’s holding her lips so she doesn’t laugh. 

“Oh,” Patty says. “Oh, um. My mistake. You can stay in the sewing room then, Myra, and Eddie, you can be--”

She looks around at all of them as if counting, then bites her lip. Mike knows exactly what she’s thinking and it’s very bad.

“Eddie, you can be in the basement with Richie,” Patty finishes. Bev no longer looks like she’s about to laugh.

“Perfect,” Eddie says. He doesn’t sound as resigned as Mike would have suspected; he actually sounds determined. 

“I’ll just show you where to put your things, shall I?” Patty says to Myra. “Eddie, you know where the basement is.” And she goes, leading Myra out into the foyer to the staircase.

Eddie looks around at all of them. No one says a word.

“I’ll just go… drop my bag off,” he says. 

They all nod.

Eddie leaves out the same door and disappears down the basement steps, shutting the door behind him.

Stan holds up three fingers and slowly counts down.

“Three...” he mouths. “Two… one…”

The Losers wordlessly scamper and crowd around the basement door. Stan gets there first and presses his ear to the wood. 

“Eddie’s yelling,” he confirms quietly. “Richie wasn’t even pretending to be on the phone when he came in. Eddie’s saying he was rude and that… wait.” Stan rolls his eyes, looking disgusted. “Richie chooses now of all times to be a quiet talker.”

“Here, use this,” Ben hands him a water glass. Stan presses it up against the door and screws up his face, listening at the other end of the glass. 

“Richie is saying something about… not bringing a girlfriend to something that’s clearly supposed to be just us. Eddie is saying that she’s not his girlfriend, she’s his fianceé, so it’s different. Shit, he’s coming back up the stairs. Go, go, go!”

They all scatter and are just landing in their seats at the table when Eddie comes back into the room. He scowls at them.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he says. “I know you were all listening at the door.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Ben snorts into his water glass, and that sets all of them off. Eddie actually relaxes at this, the frown dropping off his face, and he even chuckles a little.

“Stan,” he says, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even say anything when I came in--”

“Stop,” Stan says, waving him off. “I think we’re even. Come here.” Eddie tries to hug him standing up, but Stan yanks Eddie down into his lap. Eddie relaxes and buries his face in Stan’s neck, clearly to hide the fact that he’s crying. Mike thinks to himself that if he could have seen them all earlier, he wouldn’t be so embarrassed.

“All right,” Eddie says eventually, detangling himself from Stan and thudding into the seat next to him. “Who’s going to get me some food while you all yell at me?”

Ben gets up to get him a plate while Bev says, “We’re not going to yell at you, Eddie. But isn’t it, you know, kind of fast?”

“We didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” Bill says.

“I know,” Eddie says, accepting the plate of food. “Thanks, Ben. I just… when you know, you know, right?”

“Not really,” Bev and Bill say at exactly the same time.

Eddie’s eyes widen. “I didn’t mean to say--”

“We know,” Bill says, waving it off. “But me and Bev can speak to… you know. Being careful. Being absolutely sure.”

“Waiting some time so you know it’s right,” Bev adds.

Eddie takes a moment to consider this. “I appreciate that,” he says finally. “But I don’t… I’m not…” He seems to wrestle with himself. “I want to be married,” he finally says. “I’m sick of waiting around for… I can’t wait around anymore. I need my life to start.” He looks up, his face grim, daring any of them to question him.

“We’re not telling you not to do it,” Ben says.

“Aren’t you?” Eddie says.

“Maybe a little,” Bev says, playing with her napkin. When Eddie looks at her, she gives him a soft smile. “I thought that’s what I was doing, too. Starting my life.” What she doesn’t say, Mike thinks, is that she almost ended it. Bev’s ex-husband had, at first, seemed like a wonderful man, but he’d left bruises where no one could see and hurt that would linger on long after Bev had left escaped him. 

Patty comes back through the door in that moment, Myra-less. At Eddie’s questioning look, she says, “She wants to freshen up. She also mentioned she might go to sleep. She also asked me to remind you,” Patty raises her eyebrows at him meaningfully, “what travel does to your constitution and suggests you go to bed soon also.”

Eddie drops his head into his hands. 

“All right,” he groans. “Have at it.”

“Not without Richie,” Bill says. “He’d be furious if we teased you without him.”

Eddie, face still planted on the table, says quietly, “No, he wouldn’t.”

Another heavy silence settles on the table. It’s Stan who breaks it.

“I know we were all about to make fun of Eddie,” he says. “But I am actually exhausted and I might turn in. I’m on a lot of pain medication right now and to be honest I might fall asleep at this table in a few minutes.”

They all fall over themselves to assure him it’s fine and he doles out hugs before he and Patty head up the stairs. They assure Patty that they’ll clean up dinner and that they have everything they need and the Urises wave them goodnight.

“I want to say goodnight to Richie real quick,” Mike hears Stan say, and then the sound of the basement door opening and closing.

Dinner cleanup between the five of them is very fast, and they only stay up for another hour, chatting about Mike and Bill’s work on the book, Eddie’s ridiculous office stories, Bev’s ideas for her line of business casualwear, and Ben’s newest building project before Mike catches Bill nodding off in his wine and suggests they all head to bed.

Bev and Ben agree and begin to gather their things, but Eddie winces and traces the rim of his water glass with his finger.

“I think I’ll hang out here for a little while,” he says. “I’m not… anxious to get down there.”

Bill claps his shoulder in a sympathetic way and Bev gives him a quick hug from behind.

“You guys will figure it out,” she says. “You always have before.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, rubbing her hands where they’re clasped around his neck. “I’m going to… I’m gonna try.”

The rest of them head upstairs, parting ways at their various bedrooms.

“So... that was something,” Bill says, rifling through his duffle bag.

“It was,” Mike agrees. He starts to take the cushions off the couch in order to fold out the bed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Eddie,” Bill says. “There’s no way he’s been dating this woman longer than a few months. And something about her doesn’t feel right. Never mind what it’s going to do to him and Richie.”

Mike hums an agreement, then hesitates before saying, “Bill. Do you know if Eddie’s ever…”

“Had feelings for Richie?” Bill says, eyes still on his bag. “Yeah, I think he did. In college, while Richie was dating that girl he worked with at the radio station. Eddie used to call me and complain that Richie wouldn’t shut up about her. He never actually told me he wanted Richie himself, but that’s what it felt like. Fuck!” He throws his hands up in the air. “I forgot to pack something to sleep in.”

Mike pulls out the tee-shirt he grabbed from Bill’s chest of drawers and hands it to him wordlessly. Bill groans in appreciation and shrugs off his button down.

“How do you always know?” he asks Mike.

Mike shrugs and smiles down at his own luggage. He’s thankful yet again for Bill’s obliviousness, how he always interprets Mike’s actions as just platonic, just a best friend looking out for his bro. It’s painful, and Mike supposes it will be painful for a long time, but he’s still grateful for these moments, where he can pretend.

“Poor Richie,” he says, thinking also, a little selfishly, of himself.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him either,” Bill says, muffled as he pulls on his shirt. “He’s had all this opportunity to tell Eddie how he feels, but he hasn’t because he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. Meanwhile, he’s ruining their friendship anyway by pulling away and not telling Eddie why.” He joins Mike in heaving the bed out of the sofa.

“He’s just scared,” Mike says, probably a tad defensively.

“Everybody’s scared,” Bill says, and when Mike looks questioningly at him, he shrugs and starts putting the sheets on the mattress. “Ignore me, I’m just bitter.”

“I’m gonna go get a glass of water from downstairs,” Mike says. “You want anything?”

“Nah,” Bill says, grinning up at him. “If I’m thirsty later, I’ll just steal yours.”

Mike kicks him lightly in the shin and heads into the hallway. He can hear quiet murmuring behind the guest room door, while Stan and Patty’s bedroom is dark and silent, as is the sewing room.

He goes down the stairs and is about to open the door to the kitchen when he hears Eddie say, “So, are we going to talk about it?”

He stops short.

There’s a pause before Richie says, “Talk about what, Eds?”

Mike bites his lip. He really, _really_ shouldn’t listen to this. But he’s so curious. He can get Bill’s perspective on Eddie, but the only person who really knows what Richie is thinking is Stan, and he’s a vault. 

“Don’t play dumb and don’t call me Eds,” Eddie says. “Why are you ignoring me?”

Richie laughs hollowly. “Wow, arrogant much? I’m not ignoring you, dude. I’m just… you know, busy.”

“Not too busy to talk to Bill,” Eddie says, and Mike winces. “You think I’m stupid, Richie? When you stopped responding I obviously called Bill to see if you were okay. I was worried something had happened to you. You’ve been texting everyone else, just not me. Why?”

“Why are you marrying someone you’ve only known for three months?” Richie fires back.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just wondering.”

Mike doesn’t expect Eddie to answer, but he says in a very different tone of voice, “I’m lonely, Rich. You have Bill and Mike in L.A., Ben and Bev have each other, Stan and Patty have each other. I’m the only one in New York and I’m lonely all the time.” His voice breaks. “And it used to be okay, because… I had you. But now I don’t anymore and I don’t know why. Please tell me why.”

There’s another long pause. Mike strains to listen, trying to tell if either of them are moving.

Finally, Richie says, in a quiet but defiant voice, “No.”

Eddie sighs, and Mike can hear all of the fight go out of him.

“Fine,” Eddie says, sounding exhausted. “Goodnight.”

Mike realizes about a half a second before Eddie opens the door that the conversation is over, and he dashes for the stairs. Thankfully, Eddie looks lost in his own world as he slumps into the basement, and he doesn’t notice Mike hiding behind the bannister. 

He almost goes into the kitchen to see if Richie is okay, but it feels dishonest to do after he’s just eavesdropped, so he tiptoes back up the stairs.

Bill is asleep when Mike comes in, his arm flung above his head and his mouth slack, so he closes the door quietly and crawls into the sofa bed, trying not to disturb him. He’s pulling the blanket over them both when Bill murmurs, “Mike?”

“Yeah?” Mike asks. 

Bill’s hand travels across the space between them and his fingers graze the back of Mike’s hand.

“Just making sure you’re there,” he says sleepily.

And it might be Bill’s light touch, or the dark, or the honesty of Eddie’s words downstairs, but Mike answers, “Always.”

Bill hums, but doesn’t say anything else. Mike is worried his brain won’t be able to shut off after such a day, that he’s going to lay awake thinking about all the people he loves under this one roof, but the crying he’s been doing all day catches up to him and he falls asleep as soon as he shuts his eyes.

\--

Mike doesn’t know what wakes him, but the sun is just beginning to peek into the room. Bill is still dead to the world, so Mike pulls on sweatpants and socks and creeps downstairs to get some coffee.

He almost has a heart attack when he sees a dark shadow sitting at the island, but he flips on the light and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that it’s Stan, staring off into space with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

Stan looks over at him and chuckles when he sees Mike clutching his chest.

“Did I scare you?” he asks. “Sorry. I’ve been up for a while.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Mike heads to the coffeepot where Stan has blessedly made a full pot.

Stan shrugs. “Haven’t been able to much lately.”

Mike considers him over the rim of his mug.

“Should you be--”

“Alone?” Stan says sharply. “No, probably not. But you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to try again.”

Mike settles onto the stool across from Stan and looks at him, harder than he has since they arrived. He looks pale and pinched, the bags under his eyes purplish and bruisey. Mike’s eyes fall to Stan’s wrists. Yesterday, he had been wearing long sleeves; today, Stan has on a tee shirt and Mike can see the bandages.

“Why did you…?” Mike says without thinking, and at Stan’s piercing look, he stammers, “You obviously don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s okay,” Stan says, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it forward absentmindedly. “You all came out here, you deserve… well, anything you want to know, really. And I know you don’t judge me, Mike.”

“Not at all,” Mike says truthfully. It isn’t as if he hasn’t been to that dark place. They all grew up with the darkness just behind, just ahead, and always hovering above, ready to descend. That’s how they found each other; they kept each other’s darkness at bay when they could, and were there to bring in the light when they couldn’t.

“I’ve been having really awful dreams,” Stan says. “About Derry, and monsters. There was this painting in my dad’s office that really terrified me when I was young. A woman with a flute. She’s always in my nightmares.” He fiddles with the bandages on one wrist. “I’ve been having them since I was a kid, so I don’t know why this time it was worse, but I woke up and I felt… I can’t describe it. Patty was laying right there next to me but I was so alone. It was the middle of the night and I couldn’t hear anything, there were no people, or animals, or any sounds that proved I wasn’t completely and totally alone. And it was terrifying.”

The bandage is coming slightly loose where he’s worrying it, so Mike reaches out and stllls his fingers. Stan breathes a harsh gasp and clasps Mike’s hand.

“I was so scared,” he says, his voice trembling. “And suddenly I just couldn’t be here anymore, in this whole big world by myself. So I ran a bath.” He smiles grimly at Mike, who doesn’t smile back.

“Stan,” Mike says. “Now I _really_ think you shouldn’t be alone. Why are you so sure you aren’t going to try again?”

“Because,” Stan says, giving Mike’s hand a soft pat. “I had the exact same nightmare a few hours ago. But this time when I woke up, even though the world felt just as quiet, this time I didn’t want to leave it.”

Mike’s breath shudders out of him and a tear leaks down his cheek.

“I want to stay,” Stan continues. “And I guess I don’t know that that feeling won’t ever come back. But I’m supposed to start going to therapy so I’ll talk about it. And I’m going to try and find something that helps me sleep through the night. And hopefully some combination of those things is enough.”

“It has to be,” Mike says. “Do you understand that?” He runs his thumb across the back of Stan’s. “We can’t be us without you.”

Stan squeezes Mike’s hand one more time before letting go. Mike can’t tell whether or not Stan believes him. But Mike said it, and that’s all he can do.

“You should go wake up Richie,” Stan says, taking a sip of his coffee. “That couch cannot be good for his back.”

“He slept up here?” Mike asks..

Stan nods. “I’m guessing I missed some drama?”

“Not really,” Mike says. “I heard them talking before bed and it certainly didn’t end well. But I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“I guess it didn’t have to be,” Stan says. “I mean, would you want to sleep next to the person you’re in love with knowing you could never have them?”

The question stings like a slap and Mike turns away, but not before Stan sees the pain flash across his face.

“Oh,” Stan says softly.

“I’ll go wake up Richie,” he says, still not looking at Stan. His stomach is churning with embarrassment.

“Mike--” Stan starts, but he’s already out the door.

Richie is sprawled on the living room couch, snoring like a chainsaw. Mike leans down very close to Richie’s face and blows in his ear. Richie shrieks at the top of his lungs and flails, getting tangled in the blanket and falling off of the couch.

“What the--?” He sees Mike shaking with silent laughter and scowls. “Oh, you asshole. Hey, Michael? Riddle me this. Why are you always a jackass when there’s no one else around?”

“So no one will ever believe you,” Mike says sweetly. “Come on, Stan’s up and coffee’s on.”

Richie pulls the blanket up over his head and grumbles all the way to the kitchen, where he attaches himself like a leech to Stan, wrapping them both in the blanket and laying his head on Stan’s shoulder.

Mike watches them fondly, trying to push down the jealousy that threatens to crawl up his throat. He’s always felt a little on the outside, being quiet, being black, coming into the group last and not getting close with anyone right away. He has something with Bill now, something mature and adult, and he knows they all love him with a loyalty some people only dream about, but he’ll never have what Richie has with Stan, this bone-deep connection, exquisite and intangible.

“What do you want for breakfast, Stan?” Mike asks, going to the fridge.

“I want pancakes,” Richie pipes up from Stan’s shoulder.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted, Richie.”

“Yeah, Rich,” Stan says. “When you try to kill yourself, you can choose what we eat for breakfast.”

Mike turns around slowly. Stan looks surprised at himself. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That wasn’t funny. I don’t know why I said that.” He yelps. “Richie, don’t pinch me!”

“Leave the comedy to the professionals, asshole,” Richie says.

“Oh, is that what you are?” says a voice from the doorway. They all turn to see Eddie leaning against the doorway with a smug grin on his face. “A professional?”

Mike raises his eyebrows at Richie. _Let him in_ , he says. _Let’s be us, just for this week. Just for now_. Richie gives an almost imperceptible nod.

“Well you’d know, wouldn’t you, Eds?” he says loudly. “I know you watch my specials every night before bed.”

“Yeah,” Eddie snorts. “To put me to sleep.”

Richie yowls and clutches his chest. Stan makes complaining noises and shoves him off, Richie sinking to the floor and taking the blanket with him.

“Oh, Eds gets off a good one!” Richie wails from the floor. “Oh, the chucks! They got me!”

Eddie walks over to him and nudges him with his foot. 

“Stan, call an exterminator,” he says. “You’ve got a pest problem.”

Richie grabs Eddie’s foot and hugs it to him. Eddie yelps and tries to get free, but loses his balance and lands right on top of Richie, who wheezes like an accordion.

Mike doubles over with laughter, and for a moment their voices ring together in perfect harmony.

“Eddie?” 

The moment deflates. Myra is standing in the doorway, staring at Eddie on the ground in apparent horror.

“Oh, hi,” Eddie says, stumbling to his feet. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“You shouldn’t be wrestling, Eddie,” Myra says, as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re delicate.”

Mike looks at Richie. This is the sort of thing Richie could tease Eddie for, and even though he wouldn’t do it in front of Myra, he expects to see a smirk at least. Instead, Richie looks horrified.

“Have you even taken your morning medications?” Myra demands.

And finally, it clicks, why Richie looks so upset. Delicate Eddie, Eddie on medication, Eddie’s constitution… Bev had been closer than she thought with her comment the day before. Eddie was trying to begin something, but Myra would only halt any progress Eddie had made after his mother’s death.

“Um,” Eddie says. “No, I haven’t.”

“Come upstairs,” Myra says, holding out her hand. It’s the one with the ring on it, and it sparkles in the early morning sun. “I’ll make sure you take everything properly.”

Eddie goes with her meekly, casting one helpless look over his shoulder.

Richie stays on the ground on his knees, the blanket draped around his shoulders, glaring at the doorway long after Eddie and Myra are gone.

“I hate her,” he declares.

“Is that fair?” Stan asks. “You’ve known her two seconds.”

“She’s awful,” Richie snaps.

“I actually have to agree,” Mike says, raising his hand tentatively.

“Mikey! Thank you! See?” Richie gestures at Mike. “Michael Hanlon is the nicest man in America, nay! The world! And he agrees with me.”

“I never said I disagreed with you,” Stan says. “I just asked if it was fair.”

Richie looks back at the doorway. “Nothing is,” he says, and it sounds so despondent that Mike actually gets pancake mix out of the cupboard.

He’s made a big stack of blueberry and banana pancakes by the time Bill, Bev, Ben, and Patty make it downstairs. Patty goes to Stan immediately and he hugs her, whispering into her hair as Bill starts up another pot of coffee.

“Where’s Eddie?” Bev asks, popping a blueberry into her mouth. 

“Upstairs, being force-fed pills by his bride-to-be,” Richie says, shoveling an entire pancake into his mouth whole.

“Green’s a good color on you, Richie,” Bev says, and when Richie shoots her a sharp look, she rolls her eyes. “Oh, like anyone in this room doesn’t know.”

Richie looks around at all of them, and they shrug in tandem. He groans and buries his face in his arms. Mike is struck with the memory of Eddie doing the same thing the night before.

Suddenly, Eddie is in the doorway, Myra close behind.

“Pancakes, Myra?” Mike asks politely.

“Eddie and I don’t eat gluten,” she answers.

Mike makes eye contact with Bill, who chokes on his coffee.

“Something else, then?” Patty asks. “We’ve got yogurt, fruit, granola…”

“Actually, I’m on my way out,” Myra says.

All of the Losers’ heads snap up at this. She looks a little taken aback.

“Already?” Richie asks, his tone blatantly hopeful. Mike sees Stan kick him.

“I have to get back to work,” Myra says. “Eddie does too, but,” she purses her lips, “he’s convinced he’s needed here.”

“He is,” Stan says crisply. Mike thinks this is a little hypocritical considering how hard he had just kicked Richie.

“Well,” Myra says. “It’s been a real pleasure, meeting all of you. Come on, Eddie.”

“I thought you were staying,” Ben says.

“I have to drive her to the airport,” Eddie says to his shoes.

“Well, that’s dumb,” Bill says. 

They all turn to look at him, and he colors slightly.

“I just meant… it’s a rental, right?” he says. “Eddie doesn’t need his own car while he’s here. You should return it, save the money. We can drive Eddie to the airport when we leave.”

“I’m not driving to the airport by myself,” Myra says stiffly.

“I’ll follow you in my car,” Richie says, standing suddenly, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. “You can return the rental and I’ll drive Eddie back.”

Myra looks like she wants to argue, but she can’t disagree that having the car just sitting in the Uris’ driveway is a waste, so she nods, glaring at Richie, who clatters into the basement to throw on a sweatshirt and his sneakers.

Myra gives them all one final awkward wave and then she, Eddie, and Richie are all out the door. As soon as it shuts behind him, Patty lets out a huge sigh.

“That’s a relief,” she says. “God, that woman.”

“There’s no way you’re more relieved than Richie,” Bev says. 

“Ten bucks he rides their bumper all the way to the airport,” Ben snickers.

“Honking the whole time,” Bill says, and they all dissolve into laughter. 

“Do you think they’ll come back friends?” Mike asks. “Or do you think Eddie will run them off the road?”

“Some combination of the two, probably,” Bill says, and he gestures at Mike with his coffee cup. “I don’t know what plans the rest of you have for the day, but me and Hanlon here still have a deadline.”

“I should get some work done, too,” Bev says. “Mind if I join homework club?”

Ben’s face splits into a blinding smile. He’d been the one to invent homework club, in tenth grade when they all realized they wanted out of Derry, and the best way out of Derry was to get scholarships to out-of-state-schools.

“I need to check my emails at least,” he says. “Let’s meet back here in fifteen.”

“I’ll do the dishes,” Stan says.

“You absolutely will not,” Patty says. “You’re supposed to keep your bandages dry. I will do the dishes, you go grab one of those puzzles you’re always complaining you don’t have enough time to do. You’re officially on vacation, my love.”

Stan pretends to make a fuss, but he does go get one of his bird puzzles, and they spend a very pleasant morning all tapping gently on their computers together, the sound of the dishwasher a pleasant background hum. At one point, the phone rings and Patty gets up to get it.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Maggie!”

Bill and Mike’s heads snap up.

“It’s your Aunt Patty, do you remember me? I met you at your Aunt Bev and Uncle Ben’s wedding! But you were just a little kid then, you sound like such a grown up now!” Patty listens for a moment, and she gives Bill a curious look. “Yes, he’s here. Do you want to talk to him? Okay, one second.”

She walks over to the couch where Bill and Mike are working. Bill is already extending his hand, but Patty offers the phone to Mike instead.

“She wants to talk to you,” Patty says, her smile soft.

“Me?” Mike asks, taking the phone and holding it up to his ear. “Hi, Mags.”

“Hi, Uncle Mike,” Maggie crows in his ear. “I finished Charlotte’s Web and I had to call you!”

“You finished already?” Mike asks. “You’ve got to be the fastest reader in the second grade!”

Maggie giggles modestly. “Did you cry at the end when you read it?”

“Of course,” Mike says. “Did you?”

“I cried a hundred million tears.”

“That sounds about right,” Mike says.

While Maggie chatters happily, Mike chances a look at Bill, and it almost wrecks him. Bill is watching him talk to Maggie with the same sort of expression he was wearing the night before: gentle, dear, and thoughtful, like a puzzle is slowly being put together. 

“Okay, give the phone to Daddy now,” Maggie orders.

“Will do, he’s right here. Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Uncle Mike, I love you!”

Mike’s heart gets caught in his throat. “I love you, too.”

As Bill takes the phone from his hand, their fingers brush, and the smile Bill gives him makes Mike feel warm in the soles of his feet. He shivers slightly.

Bill talks to Maggie for a few minutes and hands Patty the phone back when he’s done. When he settles back onto the couch, he’s closer to Mike than he was originally, and Mike can feel his warmth through their clothes.

Suddenly, the front door bangs open, and Eddie comes striding in, followed closely by Richie, looking chagrined with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“All right,” Eddie says. “Hands up if you think I’m marrying my mother.”

Bev and Bill put their hands in the air right away. Stan is just behind them. Mike and Ben shrug at each other, then put their hands up as well.

“I abstain,” Patty says. “I didn’t know your mother. But Myra certainly treats you like a child.”

Eddie turns around to glare at Richie, who lifts his shoulders as much as he can with his hands still in his pockets. “You already know my opinion on the subject, Eds.”

The fight goes out of Eddie and he slumps into a chair, covering his face with his hands.

“What am I gonna do now?” he mutters.

“Well, I wouldn’t marry her,” Bill mutters.

“That engagement ring was three thousand dollars,” Eddie says.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!”

Eddie slumps even further into his chair.

“Are there any pancakes left?” he asks miserably.

“No, but I can make you some lunch,” Patty laughs. “Gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, nut-free, right, Eddie?”

Eddie just groans.

\----

It’s around 2:00pm that they all start fading. Bev is first, her laptop still open on her chest, her hair across her face. Ben tucks it lovingly behind her ear and smiles at her with sleepy eyes before curling up next to her. 

When Mike looks over at Bill, he’s still staring at his computer screen, but his eyelids are drooping and Mike can tell he’s seconds away from falling asleep sitting up. He reaches over and takes the computer off of Bill’s lap. Bill gives him a grateful look and settles back to close his eyes.

Stan and Eddie are lolled against each other on the couch, already completely out. Patty tucks a blanket around them both.

To Mike’s surprise, Richie is shockingly bright-eyed considering where he slept last night and how he was woken up. He follows Mike into the kitchen, Patty turning off at the stairs and whispering that’s she’s going to get some laundry done. 

“Is this what getting old means?” Richie asks, chuckling. “Waking up late _and_ taking an afternoon nap?”

“I think so,” Mike laughs. 

They fall into a companionable silence, Richie still scribbling in his notebook, until Mike can’t take it anymore. 

“Why aren’t you speaking to Eddie?”

“Right now? He’s asleep,” Richie answers, crossing something off with a flick of his pencil.

Mike just stares at him until Richie looks up and sighs heavily.

“Mikey, not you, too.”

“Come on,” Mike wheedles. “You guys are best friends and he’s clearly upset about it. I just want to understand it from your point of view.”

Richie sighs again, deeper this time, though Mike doesn’t know how that’s possible. 

“I’m just trying to get over him,” he says finally. “It was impossible not to love him when we were texting every single day. And he was using me, our closeness, to avoid getting close to anyone in New York. So I figured the best thing for both of us was for me to back off.”

“Is it working?” Mike asks gently.

All the air goes out of Richie in a long _whoosh_.

“No,” he admits. “But hey! It’s only been a year. I’m sure it’ll happen eventually.”

“And have you thought about just telling him how you feel?” Mike asks.

Richie snorts. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be a disaster.”

“It might not be.”

“Then you don’t know Eddie,” Richie snaps. 

“I know you all pretty well,” Mike says. “I don’t think it would be a disaster. He might surprise you. And,” he waits until Richie looks at him. “You’re hurting him, Rich.”

Richie does wilt at this. 

“Well, what about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“Do you have any plans to tell Bill how you feel?” 

Mike gapes.

Richie smirks at him. “Smitten knows smitten.”

Mike feels his face get hot. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!” Mike says defensively. “We… we work together. It’s more complicated. Plus, I know Bill doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“He told you that?”

“Well… no.”

“Then you don’t know,” Richie says, shrugging. “Sorry, Mikey, you don’t get to dish it out if you can’t take it.”

“Fair enough,” Mike says, and after a pause, adds, “I just don’t think you can have it both ways. You either have to tell him you love him or stop ignoring him. Right now you hold all the cards and that just isn’t fair. Let him... make the choice. To love you, or to not.”

Richie squints at him. “Fair enough yourself.”

\----

Dinner that night is spaghetti and meatballs, which thrills Richie to no end.

“This is the one thing I can cook!” he exclaims, tugging the big pot away from Patty and setting the water to boil. 

Patty looks nervous, but she lets Richie take control, which also means tolerating him throwing cooked spaghetti at the wall to see if it sticks.

“It’s still the best way to see if it’s done,” he tells Patty, whipping a strand at the door, which opens at the worst possible moment. The spaghetti hits Eddie full in the face.

Richie looks like every single one of his wildest dreams have come true.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” he screeches.

“Oh, god,” Eddie says. “Not that nickname. Please no. Call me Eds, Richie.”

“Not a chance, Spaghetti-head,” Richie wags a finger at him. Eddie groans.

“Stanley!” Richie bellows at Stan, who has followed Eddie through the door. “Can I have some tunes to cook to, please?’

Stan fiddles with his phone and The Temptations start to blast through the speaker on the counter. Richie uses the wooden spoon he’s been using to make sauce as a microphone.

“ _I know you wanna leave me_ ,” he sings, “ _but I refuse to let you go!_ ”

Eddie looks simultaneously like he wants to kill Richie and kiss him. 

“Haystack, take over,” Richie says, shoving the spoon at Ben and grabbing Bill to swing him around. Bill laughs as Richie whirls him, with a devilish glint in his eye, right into Mike, who catches Bill so he doesn’t slide onto the ground.

“My hero,” Bill laughs. Mike’s face gets hot and he shimmies a little, trying to make it into more of a joke. It sort of works, but it sort of doesn’t.

Richie is making his way around the room, swing dancing with Bev and disco-ing with Stan. He reaches Eddie, who was looking extremely put out to be excluded, and grabs him around the waist.

“ _Ain’t too proud to plead, baby, baby_ ,” Richie brays in Eddie’s face, and suddenly Mike cannot fathom how Richie can’t see how much Eddie loves him. Richie twirls Eddie underneath his arm and when he pulls Eddie back into his chest, both their faces flushed and beaming, it’s such a private moment that Mike has to look away.

Ben finishes up dinner while Richie is otherwise occupied, and once they all dig in, everyone reluctantly admits that the meal is cooked very well.

“You can thank my muse,” Richie says, leaning over to pinch Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie flicks his hand away, but it’s more fond than annoyed.

After dinner, Patty pours them all wine, except Stan, who is still on painkillers.

“Oh, please don’t worry about it,” Stan says when they all ask if he’d rather they not. “I wouldn’t drink right now even if I wasn’t on the heavy stuff. It is way too much fun to watch you bozos get wasted and make fools out of yourselves.

“You sure you don’t want some Kedem?” Patty teases, grabbing a bottle of the kosher non-alcoholic wine off the top of the fridge. Stan allows her to pour him a glass but makes a face at her every time he sips, lips pursed with the sweetness.

The wine flows freely and Stan’s playlist continues to play,, and they dance around the living room, stamping their feet and tossing their heads. It’s such a familiar sight to Mike; they used to dance like this back in high school in Bill’s garage, in Ben’s basement, at the quarry. Mike feels like a haze has descended and he is suddenly fifteen and forty all at the same time.

After a while they all collapse onto the couches, breathing heavily and laughing. 

“I’m heading to bed,” Patty announces, draining her glass. At the chorus of “ _no, please stay”_ s she just shakes her head. “I want to give the seven of you some time together.” Passing by the back of the couch she ruffles Richie’s hair and drops a kiss to the top of Bev’s head. “Love you all.” They all wave her to the doorway, Stan blowing her a kiss, which she grabs out of the air and tucks into her robe pocket.

“You married a good one, Stanley,” Bill says.

“I know,” Stan says dreamily, still watching the doorway his wife had just passed through.

“Speaking of marrying and good ones,” Eddie says, tapping his teeth with his finger. “I’m… not.”

Everyone’s heads swivel toward him. He squirms under all of their attention.

“What does that mean, Eddie?” Ben asks patiently.

“I called Myra,” Eddie says, picking at lint on his pants. “And I, uh… I broke it off.”

There’s a pause, like everyone is waiting for permission. Eddie sighs.

“You don’t have to pretend to be sad about it.”

Everyone sighs with relief.

“Oh, good,” Bev says. “No offense, Eddie, but she was kind of a nightmare.”

“We barely met her, to be fair,” Ben says, ears a little red.

“I don’t want to be fair,” Richie says.

“Me neither,” Bill says.

The rest of them chorus their agreement.

“All right, I get it!” Eddie says, looking a little put-out. “She wasn’t right for me, I know.”

“Next time, don’t introduce someone to the group as your fianceé,” Bill says. “At least let us meet someone before you put a ring on it, okay?”

“Mention her name in the group chat, even,” Bev says sarcastically.

“That only works if everyone responds to the group chat,” Eddie says darkly, mostly to his glass of wine.

The room goes so silent Mike is sure he can hear crickets outside. He looks to Bill, who he finds is already looking at him. They both wince at each other.

After a moment , Richie gets up and mumbles, “I’m going to bed.”

Eddie sighs. “No, Rich, I’m sorry, please sit back down--”

“No, I am honestly really tired,” Richie says, smiling wanly. “I didn’t have a cushy afternoon nap like the rest of you assholes.”

He’s gone before anyone else can say anything, and they sit in silence for a moment before Eddie slams his wine glass down on the table.

“Damn it!” he says, lacing his fingers on the back of his neck and shoving his head into his knees. He lets out a very painful-sounding groan that makes them all sit up with alarm.

“Eddie,” Bill says carefully.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, untangling himself and scrubbing down his face with one hand. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m so angry right now. At him, and at myself… I just…”

“This is so stupid!” Bev exclaims suddenly. “Eddie, god damnit, Richie is--”

“Bev!” Bill barks.

The whole room looks at Bill, who is looking a bit chagrined but determined nonetheless. 

Mike sees Bill every day, sees him lose his phone, forget to pack essentials, trip over books he leaves in the middle of the floor. He forgets that they all used to look up to Bill, that he was their leader when they all really needed one. He forgets until moments like these where Bill is the center of gravity, everything revolving around him. They all lean towards him, like flowers to the sun.

“Fuck,” Bev says. She sticks her pointer finger into her mouth and starts chewing on her nail. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Bill sighs. “No, I’m sorry, Bev. I didn’t mean to yell, I just. You can’t do this for them.”

“No, what was she going to say?” Eddie demands. “What were you going to say, Bev?”

She continues gnawing on her fingernail and shakes her head at him. “Bill’s right. I shouldn’t interfere.”

“Do you all know?” Eddie looks around the room at all of them. Mike unconsciously slides deeper into his chair. Everyone is wearing identical expressions of discomfort. “Fuck, you do. You all know and none of you are going to tell me. This is such _bullshit!_ ” On the last word, he stands and points his finger around the room. “Since none of you assholes are going to help me, I might as well fucking leave.”

He stalks out of the room and comes back with the shoes that were sitting by the door, wrestling them onto his feet.

“Eddie,” Ben says, clearly trying to be calming, but Eddie is too worked up.

“No, fuck off, Ben,” he says.

“Eddie!” This time it’s Bill, who has never been able to tolerate them being rude to each other.

At Bill’s voice, Eddie softens slightly. “Relax,” he says, yanking at his shoelaces. “I just need to go for a walk.”

Once his shoes are on and tied, he strides to the front door.

“At least take your phone,” Stan sighs.

Eddie takes his phone out of his pocket and waves it at Stan obnoxiously before disappearing through out the front door. Mike thinks he must still have some sense of self-control as he does not slam it behind him.

Bev sits forward on the couch, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes.

“I really am sorry I snapped,” Bill says gently to her.

“No, you were right to stop me,” Bev says. “I just get so fucking… _mad_ at them. This is so high school! Why won’t they just talk?”

“All in favor of locking them in a closet until this is resolved?” Stan grins, tossing his hand into the air.

“Tempting,” Ben smiles.

Suddenly, the door flies open again and Eddie storms in. Without speaking to any of them, he vanishes down the hallway.

None of the Losers speak. A few minutes go by, and then Mike hears, “No, no, no, I don’t want to, it’s cold outside!”

“Tough shit,” Eddie says, reappearing and dragging Richie by the hand behind him.

Richie is using his other hand to shove his feet into his sneakers and scowling.

“I was asleep, dickhead!”

“And now you’re not,” Eddie says, letting go of Richie just long enough to wrench his jacket from the hall closet and shove it at him. “So you might as well join me for a walk. Let’s go, Rich.”

Richie pulls on his jacket, grumbling, and looks to the group sitting in the living room, still silently watching them.

“Isn’t anyone going to save me?” he demands.

They all shake their heads.

“Hah!” Eddie says triumphantly, and grabbing Richie’s hand again, marches them both out the door.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Stan lets out a whoop of joy.

“Thank god,” he says. “Richie better tell him. If he doesn’t, I’m not letting him back into the house.”

“Good call,” Bill says, downing his wine in one gulp.

“Can you imagine what they’d actually be like as a couple?” Ben asks.

“Honestly, probably unbearable,” Mike says. “Think about how much they bicker. It’ll be like that, except with kissing.”

Stan makes a horrified face. “Oh, god. Never mind, I don’t want it. Someone go get them before it happens!”

“I think they’ll be sweet,” Ben says. “They temper each other.”

“They also encourage each other,” Bev adds. Smacking her hands together, she says, “Once they get together, we only have a few more of us to pair up! Mike, anyone catching your eye lately?”

Mike blanches and sits back in his chair.

“No,” he says. 

“Aw, come on,” Stan says, grinning at him. “You haven’t met anyone new since you’ve been living in L.A.? Don’t Bill and Richie have lots of Hollywood friends to introduce you to?”

Given the excuse, Mike sneaks a glance at Bill, who is studying the inside of his now-empty wine glass.

“No,” he repeats softly. “No one.” 

“That doesn’t sound like no one!” Ben crows. Mike usually loves Ben’s never-ending romanticism but it is not currently working in his favor.

“Guys,” Bill says sharply. “Don’t tease him.”

“So what about you, then, Bill?” Stan asks, perching his chin on his fist and his elbow on his knee.

Bill shrugs, still staring into his wine-stained glass. “I don’t have time to date. Mike and I are working so much.”

Mike’s heart sinks into his stomach. Bill sounds resentful. Mike had been under the impression that Bill liked working as much as they were doing. He’d told Mike so regularly, that it was good to be so busy. Had he been lying? Would he rather Mike go back to his neat, quiet apartment? Would he rather they just communicate via email? Mike feels vaguely like he’s going to be sick.

Suddenly, his phone chimes in his back pocket. He pulls it out. It’s a text from Eddie. He swipes it open.

 _Richie says to take your own good advice_.

“Oh,” Mike says. “I… I think Richie told him.” The Losers all jump up and crowd around him. Another text comes in.

 _I don’t know what that means but if you’re the one who told this numbskull to tell me he loved me, then thank you_.

Bev squeals and throws her arms around Ben. Stan collapses onto the floor and leans his head against Mike’s knee. 

“What does that mean?” Bill asks quietly, clearly meaning it only for Mike. “Take your own good advice?”

Mike hesitates, then looks at Bill. He’s closer than Mike thinks he’s going to be, and he freezes, caught in Bill’s blue stare. He can count the freckles on his nose. 

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, and he can’t tell whether it’s an evasion or a promise.

The front door opens again, Eddie dragging Richie back through, a mirror of the way they had departed, except this time Richie looks dazed and joyous. As Eddie pulls him down the hallway, Richie grins at the Losers and punches the air like an eighties movie hero.

“Freeze frame!” he calls back at them as he is hurried away. 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Eddie says, but there’s fondness in it, and then they’re gone again.

“They’re going to have sex on my couch, aren’t they?” Stan asks flatly.

“Oh, no question,” Bev chuckles.

“And on that note,” Ben says, beginning to gather up the wine glasses. “I think we should all go to bed.”

Mike helps him load the glasses into the dishwasher and they all head upstairs, parting ways again at their doors and whispering goodnights.

Bill and Mike had left the couch folded out, knowing Stan wouldn’t be needing the study that day, so there isn’t much to do before they go to bed. Mike goes to the hall bathroom to brush his teeth and Bill leaves when he comes back to do the same.

Mike sits on the edge of the bed, thinking about Eddie’s text. He had been confident Eddie and Richie would work it out-- he’d known Richie’s feelings and had a good sense about Eddie’s. He doesn’t have nearly the same sense about Bill.

Bill, who would surely have told him if feelings had developed. Bill was brave, and unlike Mike, Bill had nothing to lose. Mike’s loyalty was enduring, and if Bill had come to him with feelings unreciprocated, Mike would still have continued to be his friend, co-worker, confidante. Bill knew that, so he would have said something by now if there was something to be said. Wouldn’t he?

Bill comes back into their room, closing the door quietly behind him. He looks at Mike and smiles, and Mike’s heart throbs with want. 

“What a day, huh?” Bill says. He doesn’t sit down, but mills around the room quietly, looking at the books on the shelves.  
  
“Yeah,” Mike says, but it gets caught in his throat and comes out croaky.

Bill turns around. “What?”

“I said ‘yeah’,” Mike clarifies a little louder this time..

“Oh,” Bill says, looking slightly disappointed.

“Glad Eddie and Richie worked it out,” Mike offers.

“Mhmm,” Bill says, but he seems distracted. “Well, I guess we’d better go to sleep, huh?”

“I… guess,” Mike says. He feels like he’s missing something, like Bill is acting out a scene and Mike doesn’t know his lines. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be saying.

“Actually,” Mike’s mouth says without his brain’s permission.

Bill’s head snaps up to look at him. “Yeah?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“Um,” Mike says. He closes his eyes for a moment, then stands.

 _Take your own good advice_.

“I need to be… honest with you about something,” Mike says. When he looks up, Bill is watching him like a trapped animal. Like he could destroy Bill with only one word. Doesn’t he know it’s the other way around?

“I’m sorry if this isn’t… if this isn’t what you want. If I’m asking you for something you can’t give, But I… these past few months that we’ve been… the time we spend together now, it’s…”

The words aren’t coming. He doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like a child begging for dessert, or like a lawyer negotiating terms.

“Your friendship means everything to me,” Mike says. “But if you… if you wanted to…”

“If I wanted to what?” Bill asks. He’s taken a few steps closer to Mike, and he looks so hopeful. Could he know? Can he understand the nonsense Mike is flinging at his feet?

“If you wanted to be more,” Mike chokes out, and then it doesn’t matter anymore, because Bill is kissing him.

Mike gasps into this kiss but Bill immediately swallows it, wrapping his arms about Mike’s shoulders and practically climbing him. His kisses are bruising, but tender, and it’s the desperation that’s throwing Mike for a loop.

“What took you so long?” Bill murmurs against his lips. 

Mike had thought about this moment a million times, but he’d never thought about how small Bill would feel in his arms. He’d bought into Big Bill’s own myth, the untouchable, the leader, and he’d never considered that Bill might have weaknesses, that he might be just as afraid of Mike as Mike is of him.

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispers back. “I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see you.”

“Can you see me now?” Bill asks, his eyes fluttering open. It’s the most arresting sight Mike has ever seen.

Mike just kisses him again instead of answering, and Bill surges up to kiss him back, and they fall back onto the sofa bed, laughing when it creaks underneath them.

It’s only when Bill starts tugging at his clothes that Mike stops him with a hand on his chest.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, against all his more base impulses and the situation in his sweatpants. “They’ll hear us.”

Bill groans and thunks his head against Mike’s collarbone. 

“Am I a bad friend for saying I don’t care?” he asks, turning his big blue eyes onto Mike.

“No,” Mike says. “But we’ll be back home tomorrow in our own bed and then you can have your way with me.”

The words “home” and “our own bed” slip right off his tongue and he immediately wants to take them back, but Bill’s eyes both light up and darken at the same time. 

“Home,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the base of Mike’s throat. “I like that.”

And with that, the two longest days of Mike’s life officially over, he hugs Bill to his chest and drops off into sleep.

——

The moment Mike wakes up, he’s terrified it was all a dream. Bill is out of his arms, on the other side of the bed, and there’s nothing but the tingling of Mike’s lips to prove anything happened between them last night. He eases out of the bed and into the hall bathroom, where he splashes water on his face and stares at himself in the mirror.

Did those lips kiss Bill Denbrough last night? He looks at them. They don’t look any different.

When he comes back in, Bill is sitting up, looking blearily panicked. He relaxes slightly when he sees Mike, but he still looks wary.

“Where’d you go?” Bill asks.

“Bathroom,” Mike answers.

“I thought you—”

They stare at each other for a second, both trepidatious, but then Bill smiles and the moment shatters and they’re both laughing

“Oh my god,” Mike says, covering his face with his hands. “For a second I thought I dreamed it.”

“Get back in here,” Bill says, lifting up the covers.

Mike crawls back under the covers and they share a long, luxurious, morning-breath-kiss. Mike snuggles back into the sofa bed with Bill laying on his chest. He strokes Bill’s bare, freckled arm absentmindedly.

“Are we going to tell everyone today?” Mike asks. “Or should we wait, not steal Eddie and Richie’s thunder?”

Bill snorts. “Please. Like they’re the only ones who get to have an epic love story?”

“Is that what we have?” Mike asks, turning his head. He and Bill’s noses are practically touching. 

Bill raises a hand to Mike’s cheek and rubs the stubble there.

“Feels pretty epic to me,” he says.

Mike shrugs, unable to stop smiling. “So we’ll tell them.”

They can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to get dressed, but they finally manage it and head down the stairs. From the chatter in the kitchen it seems like everybody else is awake, and Bill takes Mike’s hand firmly before walking through the door.

The second Richie sees their joined hands he starts screaming. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” he screeches, shaking Eddie by the shoulders. “I told you, I told you, I told you!”

“Okay, _stop_ , I hear you, you were right,” Eddie slaps Richie’s hands away. “Stop it, assshole!”

Ben is gaping at them like he can’t believe his eyes.

“Wait, really?” he says finally. Bev whacks him in the chest. “I mean,” he turns apologetic eyes on them. “Not that it’s bad!”

“Yeah, we all knew about you two dummies,” Stan says, flicking Richie in the arm. “This is,” he raises his eyebrows at Bill. “More of a surprise.”

“But a good surprise,” Patty says, beaming at them. “Coffee, boys?”

“Please,” Bill says, and he doesn’t let go of Mike’s hand as they sit down at the table and Patty sets two mugs down in front of them. Eddie hands Mike a plate of eggs and potatoes and grins at him over the top of it.

“So,” Stan says, setting down his coffee. “What time do you think you’re all heading out today? I assume you can all fit in the rental but I’m happy to drive anyone down if there isn’t enough room for everyone’s luggage.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Richie says. “You see, Stanley, we’ve taken a vote. We’re not leaving. We’re never leaving.”

Mike expects Stan to roll his eyes like he normally does with Richie’s jokes, but instead, he laughs long and loud, and after a moment they all join in, and Bill squeezes Mike’s hand, and there’s a moment, then, that Mike will never forget. The morning light spills in from the window, lighting up all of their faces, their love for each other connecting each of them like golden string. Mike looks around at his family, the love of his life, the years between them, and the years ahead, and knows that even when the darkness comes again, they’ll fight it like they always have. They’ll fight the darkness with light, and the loneliness with joy. 

_Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea; joy to you and me._


End file.
